Things Unknown
by potatopersonal
Summary: One day at a G8 meeting, America ends up accusing Russia of terrible crimes. Set in the 1950's.
1. Chapter 1

_Alright, for this story, I should give a little info. I know that the G8 didn't exist in the 1950's, where this story is set, but oh well. This is the first chapter, as you can probably tell. I do not own Hetalia._

It was once again time for the g8 meetings. The meetings seldom corrected important issues, most of the time spent arguing with one another. However, there was one thing that made Russia look forward to arriving at the area; the work load he constantly had diminished during said meetings.

His boss was the notorious man, Stalin. Russia could not trust him, fearing for his people, spending hours upon hours of doing paperwork, attempting to pick the best scenarios for his citizens and family.

( _His family, oSh his family. He tried to protect them, he tried, but he could only do so much to help, he couldn't always take the blame. They grew to fear him more than ever, afraid of the horrors he could unleash to their children. Why couldn't they realize that he was doing all he could?)_

After a teetering stack of paperwork was finally completed, Russia was carted off to a sleek plane, reserved for only for the highest government officials, and relaxed into the rich leather seats. The meetings were to be held in England, a land much warmer than his own, especially during the current winter. The white haired man had leaned his head against the window, relishing the cool feeling on his forehead. Exhaustion had finally set in, and the Russian had finally fell into unconsciousness.

Russia had been awoken by a nervous looking attendant, saying that the plane had touched the ground, and to prepare to leave the plane. Nodding at the flight attendant, who scurried away, the man rubbed the sleep away from his eyes. A truck came bustling forwards, a staircase extending from the flatbed, reaching the door of the plane. Russia grabbed his paperwork filled briefcase and headed off briskly down the steps, the private airport close enough to the building where the meeting was being held to walk.

The air was warm, a slight breeze making the tree branches dance. England's winter had always been much milder than his own, much warmer than his own. The nation had finally reached the building, only twenty minutes after leaving the airport.

England had opened the meeting room door, looking uncomfortable in his presence. Russia was used to that reaction, and he simply walked past him with a greeting. Only Italy and the capitalist had not yet arrived, the atmosphere light and calm. And then he jinxed it, the enjoyability of the meeting disrupted by said capitalist, the burger-loving America. He and Russia were in the middle of the Cold War, threatening to send nuclear weapons over to each other at least once per week. Their fellow nations had tried to stay away from the tension as humanly (nationly?) as possible, but that was impossible; Once the Russian was out of ear range, America would complain to England or Japan; essentially anyone who he could make listen. America barged into the meeting room, slamming the door harshly behind him. The blond ignored the shouts of anger from Germany and England, plopping down on one of the chairs and pulling out a crinkled McDonald's bag. Chewing noisily on a fry, he noticed Russia in the back.

"What the fuck are you doing here, commie?" America declared with a simmering glare.

"I am part of the G8; your memory seems to be lacking."

"You don't belong at the meeting place!" America shouted. " I know what's going on in the "happy family" that is what you are, Soviet Union! I know what you've done and still do to Lithuania and the others! You- you abusive rapist!"

America's rant left the room in silence, as the other nations were unsure of how Russia would react. What happened, however was not what the others expected. Russia quietly looked up at the American, a dead expression on his face. He stood up and began walking towards the door, the others inching away from him, and quietly exited the doorway.

England cast a glare to the silent American. "America, what have you done?! What little tolerating relations you two had- and you had to go and ruin them! What were you thinking, with those assumptions?! I thought I raised you better than this, but clearly I was wrong!" England, done with his rant, began to pile his paperwork together into a cluttered pile, before straightening it and taking a deep breath to calm his nerves.

The meeting carried on, with America remaining silent for a good change, some progress was made on issues, and after two hours of arguing, the break finally arrived. Russia never came back.

 _Well, what do you all think? America called Russia the Soviet Union, which may confuse some of you. In my belief, Russia was never the Soviet Union, but rather a forced representative of it. Please Review!_


	2. Chapter 2

_Holy shit I already have a reviewer?! I had no idea I would be able to get this big this fast! Shout-out to my first reviewer, Enchanting Grace! You gave a suggestion to make the Soviet Union a separate personification, and I have given thought to it before, but I've decided to possibly make that a separate fic in the future. Nevertheless, thank you! I still don't own Hetalia though._

As the nations filtered through the doorway, America was snapped out of a doze. Currently only him and England resided in the messy meeting room, the other approaching him.

"I'm sure that you noticed that Soviet never came back, America" England stated.

"I know you want me to apologize," huffed America, "But everything I said was true! Don't you agr-" England silenced the normally noisy nation with a harsh look. "America, as I said earlier, you could destroyed the little relations you two had. It isn't possible for you to have forgotten already. It would be the best choice of action to reconcile with Soviet."

America lowered his head in defeat, and gave out a sigh. "That probably _is_ the best choice of action. I should probably go find him, then".

"Good luck, chap."

America skulked through the empty hallways, his steps giving off an echo. "First, I'll check the bathrooms". Turning to a corridor on his left, he found the men's room, and entered inside. He coughed at the rising dust; it was clear no one had been in there for months. "Well, this building _is_ rarely used... I doubt he's in the women's room..Better safe than sorry." The women's bathroom was in the same state as the men's, forcing America to continue on his quest. The electrical room was empty as well, along with the other meeting rooms. Finally, he reached the last door, a closet, which was... empty.

Cursing to himself, America wondered if he missed something, when he realized that there was an entryway on the other side of the main meeting room. Gulping, he shakily opened the door, giving off an eerie creak, revealing a flight of stairs. A person was sitting on the bottom-most step. A man with silvery hair.

"Soviet Union", America thought to himself, unintentionally saying it out loud.

The silver haired man flinched, looking around before his gaze settled on America. "Oh. It is only you. Have you come to accuse me of something else, America?"

"What? No, that's not it. Actually..." America began to make his way down the staircase; "..I came to apologize. I didn't realize how that would ruin our 'bonds'; a stupid move on my part." America reached the bottom step and sat down next to the other man, his face buried into a light pink scarf. It seemed that he hadn't slept in quite a while; Russia's expression was blank, devoid of any type of emotion. America took a deep breath. "I said some things that I probably shouldn't have.. assumed that you...well..."

"That I had raped литва, and abused the others?" Russia bitterly spoke.

"Look, I'm sorry, Soviet-"

"I AM NOT THE SOVIET UNION!" he roared.

"Russia, Russia, okay man!" America squeaked. "But seriously, did you-" America clapped his hands over his mouth, cursing his inability to keep his mouth shut when it was necessary.

"I have never... h-how could.."

America was about to interject, to try to take back his words, when he saw Russia's eyes well up with tears. He had seen plenty of nations cry, but Russia… Russia was supposed to be big steel wall, one that can't be broken, but that _had_ to be some sort of facade, a mask Russia put on.

"How...how could I subject them," said Russia with a trembling voice, "to things that I have experienced many times over...what I still experience?" America looked at the Russian with shock, not expecting that to come out of his mouth. "I can't bear to have my family suffer.." Russia buried his head between his knees, sobs shuddering through his body.

America, in an attempt to try to comfort the Russian, hugged Russia, uneasily noting how pronounced Russia's bones were. He hugged Russia tighter, staying in the position until Russia calmed down, the two of them breathing softly. "Here... um.. I'll walk you to the hotel where we're supposed to stay at... okay?" America quietly asked, getting a small nod from the Russian. America pulled up Russia, and the two of finally stepped out of the musky building, walking, until they would finally reach the hotel.

 _So this chapter is shorter than the previous one, I know. I've always had trouble with lengths, but hopefully the story was well written enough to ignore that fact! Please review!_


	3. Chapter 3

_I've decided to make a tweak from the previous chapter, where I stated my plans for this story. You'll see._ я не владею хеталия.

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...America walked slowly, keeping pace with Russia, who was breathing raggedly next to him. Taking a closer peek at the struggling Russian, and giving an inaudible sigh, grabbing the Russian's bony hand and slinging it over his shoulders and bearing his weight. Russia startled, eyes widening in surprise, then gave a sigh of relief.

"С...спасибо…" Russia quietly stated, leaning his body against America, who had an unidentifiable look on his face.

"I'm assuming that you said thank you," America bluntly said, letting out a hum as Russia nodded. "Right. So… looking at we are, we're about a third of the way to the hotel. So you better keep your ass moving, okay comm-... um... tall bastard..?" The word 'commie' almost slipped through the glasses wearing nation, but he managed to save himself. "*Cough cough*... ANYways… let's get a move on!"

Twenty minutes of road, chilly weather ( _was that a tumbleweed?_ ), and the two nations finally made it to the long awaited hotel, two stories tall, with a cafe/bar. America huffed the both of them through the wide doorway, before letting his grip on Russia's hand go, hands on his knees catching his breath.

"I ain't carrying you to your room, okay?" America asked once he recovered.

"Yes.. Thank You.." Russia replied.

"Well, I'm getting me some good ol' food," America said, pointing at a sign that led to the hotel cafe. "See ya, fucker!"

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Russia quietly made his way up a flight of stairs to reach his hotel, unlocking it with a key, shutting the door behind him. He sat down on the bed, exhausted, gathering his energy to change into something more comfortable than the irritating clothes he was currently in. Standing up with a hiss, he changed into a long sleeved shirt and a long pair of pants, scarf remaining as always.

Russia went back to the bed and curled tightly under the covers, feet poking from beneath the blanket, and fell asleep quickly.

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America walked to the cafe, rubbing at his eyes, noticed England sitting in the bar portion of the cafe, and sat in the chair next to England, sighing loudly. America ordered a grilled cheese and beer, and slumped back in his chair.

"Are you drunk, Iggy?" America asked England, who was nursing a bottle of gin.

"No! And don't call me Iggy!" England replied, bristling with indignation.

"Sorry, no can do," America responded.

"Why you-" England took a moment to collect himself before he humiliated himself ( _again_ ). "Did you manage to apologize to Soviet Union?" England asked, changing the topic.

"Yeah," America said, biting into his grilled cheese that had arrived. He couldn't tell _everything_ that had happened, what Russia (Soviet Union?) had stated when they were on the staircase. He might not look like it, but America had some intelligence. He swallowed, and continued; "I said that I was sorry. I know, I don't say that often," he said in response to the look England gave.

"And you know... I called him Soviet Union, but he snapped at me, said to call him Russia. Which is odd, since he usually demands to be called Soviet Union... Although, he _does_ look different..." America trailed off, taking a swig of his beer.

"Odd..." England said, giving the topic thought. "I can't explain it.. Magic maybe? If I can manage to summon him then clearly he has _some_ form of magic. Still, changing one's appearance with such a degree is extremely difficult, unless one was born with the gift of it..." England sighed and rubbed at his face with his hand. "Well, we still have two more days of the meeting. Perhaps you could gather the necessary information.."

"Yeah."

The two nations were silent after the conversation, America busy with his nourishment and England busy getting drunk. As soon as America was done with his food and drink, he said goodbye to England, and shuffled up to his hotel room, deep in thought of the earlier occurrences. How should he react to "Russia"? How should he act tomorrow, for the second day of the meeting? What was "Russia" hiding? He was probably just overreacting...

America entered his hotel room, taking everything but his boxers off, relaxing on the comfy mattress. Might as well get some sleep before figuring out what the hell he was to do. America fell asleep, snores loud enough to be heard from the hallway.

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 _Well, that's all I've got! As I stated earlier, I decided to tweak the story a bit, which would make the story more interesting and give me more material to work with. Did any of you catch the minor Harry Potter reference? Did you enjoy this story thus far? Please tell my your thoughts! -Potato_


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